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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



SONGS IN THE NIGHT 

AND OTHER POEMS 



SONGS IN THE NIGHT 

AND OTHER POEMS 



JAMES B/bURAND 



ALSO 

A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR 

BY 
SILAS H. DURAND 



Philadelphia 

George H Buchanan Company 

1909 



t^^5 



Copyright 1909 
By Silas H. Durand 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two CoDies Received 

JUN MldiiS 

Kv Copyritnt Entry i 
XLASS A XaC no. 



INDEX 

Songs in the Night 7 

The Dirge and Anthem 12 

Show me Thy Glory 15 

Ordination Hymn 18 

Father in Heaven to Thee 21 

Memoir 25 

Over the Sea 28 

Experience 31 

Last Hours 55 



SONGS IN THE NIGHT 

Mine eyes are held through the night-watches waking, 
But peace rests on me with its soothing powers ; 

And though all day my troubled heart was aching, 
His song is with me through the silent hours. 

A song of hope, and trust, and sweet devotion. 
Of glad thanksgiving and o'erflowing love, 

Stilling each earth-born passion and emotion, 
And wafting peace and calmness from above. 

No mortal ear, though listening in the hushes 
Of breath and heart-throb, held in still control. 

Can catch the melting flow and joyous gushes 
Of the great melody that fills my soul. 

A silent song; no voice or sound expresses 
The holy comforts of its falling strain ; 

But, like distilling dew, it bathes and blesses, 
Then, rising, is exhaled to heaven again. 

God is Himself my Song — the Gift and Giver ; 

My light His blessed Spirit shed abroad; 
While His great love, that floweth like a river, 

Makes melody within my heart to God. 

But, oh, not always thus sweet peace abideth; 

Not always thus I meet His gracious smile ; 
For oftentimes my wayward heart He chideth, 

And oft, offended, hides His face awhile. 



Forgetful of His goodness when I wander, 
Or when forbidden paths my feet have trod, 

Then I am left all desolate to ponder, 

And feel the smitings of His chastening rod. 

Oh, then comes darkness, full of gloom and sorrow, 
A sad and songless night-time of the soul ! 

No light, no hope, no promise for the morrow. 
While o'er me all His waves and billows roll. 

Through the blank, starless void, with anxious yearning, 

I seek, but cannot find Him anywhere ; 
My spirit from its farthest quest returning, 

To answer only that He is not there. 

Until my humbled soul, in deep contrition. 

Bows in the dust His mercy to implore; 
And then in love He answers my petition. 

And graciously reveals His face once more. 

Thus taught by Him, my fearful heart is driven 
To trust His name when threading darkened ways. 

And thus in sorrow's deepest night are given 
Songs of deliverance and grateful praise. 

The former things to sweet remembrance bringing, 
Times when His candle shined upon my head. 

My soul is filled with joy, my tongue with singing, 
And with His peace my heart is comforted. 

Oh, could I sing them in an earthly measure, 
The blessed songs He gives me in the night, 

Some fainting brother's heart might share the pleasure 
That ofttimes fills me with a great delight. 

8 



With lisping tongue, but with a heart o'erflowing, 
My grateful voice to-night I fain would raise, 

And, my affections all on Him bestowing, 
Lay at His feet one offering of praise. 

God of love ! how infinite and holy, 

How great in wisdom and in power Thou art ! 

And yet dost make Thy dwelling with the lowly. 

And him who is of meek and contrite heart. 

Under the shadow of Thy wing reposing, 
I feel that all is best which comes to me ; 

1 see Thy circling arms my way enclosing, 

And know that e'en my life is hid with Thee. 

Thy grace divine, Thy holy consolations, 

Thy gift of faith, with its mysterious power, 

Thy love, that heavenward wings my aspirations, 
Hallow the silence of the midnight hour. 

In songs of gratitude my heart would render 

Unto Thy holy name the praises due. 
For pardon, peace and countless mercies tender, 

For old things passed away, and all things new. 

Each secret breathing of sincere devotion 
Reaches Thy pitying, ever-listening ear, 

And Thy great love, exhaustless as the ocean, 
Fills and encircles all Thy children here. 

Throughout the darkness and the silence lonely, 

Thou art my life and hope, my strength and song; 

I find no rest but in Thy favor only, 
To whom the issues of my life belong. 

9 



Thy secret, truly, is with them that fear Thee, 
And in the depths of darkest earthly nights, 

Those who by holy love and faith dwell near Thee 
Discern the gleam of heaven's eternal lights. 

My God, my Keeper, Thou dost never slumber. 
But looking on me from Thy throne above, 

Dost hear my sighings, all my heart-throbs number, 
And watch me ever with Thine eye of love. 

'Tis sweet to trust Thee ! for when care comes pressing, 

A thousand precious promises declare, 
How much Thou hast of comfort and of blessing, 

For those who humbly cast on Thee their care. 

I question oft Thy love with doubt's denial. 

And often to vain refuges I flee ; 
But in the hour of suffering and of trial 

Where can I go, O God, but unto Thee? 

Life's burdens I would bear with faith's endurance, 
And, ceasing after earthly help to range. 

Rest all my hopes in Thee with full assurance. 
In whom there is no shadow of a change. 

Ofttimes in sad, unquiet thoughts I languish. 
Oppressed with sin and sorrow, strife and care ; 

Bowed down in spirit with a bitter anguish, 
And fearful even to cry out in prayer. 

But then, if to Thy throne of mercy turning, 
I look to Thee from life's o'erdarkened ways, 

Thou givest me the oil of joy for mourning. 
And for my heaviness the voice of praise. 

lo 



From Thee, the source of such unbounded blessing, 
How can my wayward footsteps ever rove? 

In humbleness of heart I bow confessing 
That I am all unworthy of Thy love. 

Yet grant me still to know my soul partaketh 

Thy saving grace, whate'er my faults have been; 

Still may I trust the Lamb of God who taketh 
Away the burden and the stain of sin. 

The silent, shadowy hours move onward slowly. 
But a sweet sense of joy abides with me; 

One thought alone makes the night-watches holy, 
The blessed thought that I am still with Thee. 

And morning cometh ! soon these watchings ended, 
Soon all these earthly nights and vigils o'er, 

On the freed soul shall break the radiance splendid, 
Of perfect day upon the sinless shore. 

Oh, there shall be no more of restless sighing. 
No more of sorrow and of blighting care; 

For in that glorious home of bliss undying. 
No shadow falleth, and no night is there. 

Rapt in such thoughts, peace floweth like a river. 
Filling with voiceless songs the silence deep; 

Songs holy as the angels sing forever; 
And thus Thou givest Thy beloved sleep. 



"Where is God, my Maker, who giveth songs in 
the night?" Job 35 : lo. 

"In the night His song shall be with me." Ps. 42 : 8. 

"I call to remembrance my songs in the night." 
Ps. 77:6. 

II 



''Ye shall have a song, as in the night when a holy 
solemnity is kept ; and gladness of heart as when one 
goeth with a pipe to come into the mountain of the 
Lord, to the Mighty One of Israel." Isa. 30: 29. 

"Thou shalt compass me about with songs of de- 
liverance." Ps. 32 : 7. 

"Thy statutes have been my songs in the house of 
my pilgrimage." Ps. 119:54. 

"Thou art to them a very lovely song of one that 
hath a pleasant voice." Ez. 33 : 32. 



THE DIRGE AND ANTHEM 

IsaiyKH 40 : 6-8 ; i Peter i : 24, 25 

Hark to the dirge ! All flesh is grass, 

And all its glory but the flower 
O'er which the winds of summer pass, 

And blight its beauty in an hour. 
Thus breathed the Prophet's solemn strain 

And autumn winds each fading year 
Sighing, take up the sad refrain. 

And pour its burden on the ear. 

All flesh is grass, and all its boast 

Is but the fleeting moment's birth ; 
The pomp of kings, the conqueror's host. 

Which shook with war the startled earth; 
The cities builded great and strong, 

The monuments of human pride, 
All vanish like the breath of song. 

Or sunset hues at eventide. 
12 



The threefold cords of human love, 

That seemed but now as strong as death, 
Frail as the spider's weaving prove, 

And they are broken by a breath. 
Our precious treasures take them wings ; 

Hope perishes and joy lies dead; 
And thus earth's unsubstantial things 

We only grasp to find them fled. 

Nothing continues in one stay 

Of all our mortal eyes behold ; 
This firm-set earth shall pass away, 

The very heavens themselves grow old. 
They shall be rolled away in flame, 

And a great voice, from shore to shore, 
The awful sentence shall proclaim 

That earth and time shall be no more ! 

Weak, doubting, trembling, thus we stand, 

'Midst this vain show with fearful feet, 
While mournful tones on every hand 

The Prophet's solemn words repeat. 
Are all things then delusions vain. 

And man but earth's unnoted dust? 
Doth no foundation then remain 

On which to build a hope or trust ? 

O trembling one, O fainting soul. 

Turn from the dirge, and thou shalt hear 
A great, rejoicing anthem roll 

From the same tongue to bless thine ear. 
Earth's shadows vanish as they came: 

But though the sun itself grow pale, 
God is forevermore the same ; 

His years, O man, shall never fail. 

13 



We are the creatures of His hand; 

His eye beholds both great and small ; 
His throne forevermore shall stand; 

His kingdom ruleth over all. 
From everlasting is the Lord, 

And all His promises are sure; 
Faithful and true, the Eternal Word 

Through endless ages shall endure. 

Pilgrims of earth, fresh courage take; 

The Lord of all, who reigns above, 
Has promised never to forsake 

Or leave the children of His love. 
The mighty God, he fainteth not, 

Neither is weary, but will keep 
His chosen in their earthly lot. 

As the good shepherd keeps his sheep. 

Because He lives His own shall live, 

And in His glorious presence stand ; 
To them all blessings He will give, 

And none shall pluck them from His hand. 
'Midst tears and sorrow, sin and death. 

And all earth's troubles and alarms, 
He is their refuge, and beneath 

They find His everlasting arms. 

Daily to them His grace shall come, 

Whom His redeeming love hath blest ; 
And He at last will take them home 

To His eternal heaven of rest. 
Around His throne the saints behold. 

Redeemed from earth and sin's alloy. 
In robes of white, with harps of gold. 

Raising eternal songs of joy. 
14 



SHOW ME THY GLORY 

Exodus 33 : 18 

Show me Thy glory, O my God, 

And be Thy truth displayed ! 
Thus with a trembling, waiting hope, 

I pray as Moses prayed. 
In visions bright of holy light, 

Reveal thyself to me ; 
While I with humble longings wait, 

My soul doth pant for Thee. 

Show me Thy glory and Thy power. 

But show me not in ire. 
As in the Mount Thou didst appear 

In thunderings and fire. 
For if Thou shouldst unto my prayer 

Thy burning presence give, 
I could but die ; for none behold 

Thy unveiled face and live. 

Hide me within the clefted Rock 

In that o'erwhelming hour. 
And with Thy hand oh cover me 

From Thy consuming power. 
And there proclaim Thy wondrous name, 

And let before me pass 
The vision of Thy boundless love, 

Thy goodness and Thy grace. 

15 



Thy works all praise Thee, and I see 

Thy wondrous power displayed, 
Thy wisdom and Thy glory, Lord, 

In all Thy hand hath made. 
I read Thy boundless goodness there 

Written in glowing lines ; 
But in the Kingdom of Thy grace 

Thy glory brighter shines. 

There I would see Thee clothed in love, 
But there my dim eyes fail ; 

give me power, with eyes of faith, 
To pierce beyond the veil. 

Open my ears that I may hear. 

And give me eyes to see 
What untold glories there are hid 

For those who wait on Thee. 

Thou speakest in the tempest's roar, 

When ocean's depths are stirred, 
And in the thunder's awful tones 

Thy mighty voice is heard. 
But speak to me in love and peace. 

Then shall my soul rejoice ; 
Oh, I beseech Thee grant to me 

To hear Thy still, small voice. 

The prayer of Moses reached Thine ear, 
And Thou didst condescend 

To give Thy presence unto him, 
And talk as friend to friend. 

1 am not worthy, yet I pray. 
And wait in longing fear; 

For Thou unto the contrite heart 
Hast promised to draw near. 
i6 



Oh, shine into my heart to give 

The knowledge of Thy grace, 
Thy glory and Thy saving love 

In the Redeemer's face. 
And in the blessed Lamb of God 

May I behold by faith 
My Saviour and my gracious King, 

My hope in life and death. 

Though clouds and darkness veil Thy throne, 

And mortal eyes are dim. 
In Christ Thy glorious image shines. 

Thy fulness dwells in Him. 
To Him by Thee all power is given, 

The scepter and the crown ; 
In Him Thy glory bowed the heavens, 

And to the earth came down. 

And having conquered sin and death 

By His almighty power, 
He burst the darkness of the tomb 

At the appointed hour. 
And now at Thy right hand He sits. 

Upon Thy throne of love. 
To give to all Thy chosen ones 

His Spirit from above. 

May I by faith behold Him there. 

The fount of life and grace, 
And in His countenance discern 

The Father's smiHng face. 
Then shall be answered all my prayer; 

Thy glory I shall see. 
And wait in hope till Thou shalt take 

My longing soul to Thee. 

17 



ORDINATION HYMN 

O Thou, who callest, and the laborers come 

Into Thy harvest field; 
At whose great mandate adverse pride is dumb, 

And human will must yield; 

One more hath heard Thy bidding, and now stands 

Ready to do Thy will ; 
To speak Thy word, to go at Thy command, 

And all Thy work fulfil. 

And that Thy people our fraternal care 

And fellowship may see, 
Our brother now, with solemn rite and prayer, 

We consecrate to Thee. 

As he goes forth Thy gospel to proclaim, 

Go Thou with him, we pray, 
And lead him, for the glory of Thy name. 

In wisdom's shining way. 

Thy gracious gifts shed on him from above ; 

Instruct him in Thy ways ; 
And open Thou his lips, O God of love, 

That he may speak Thy praise. 

Through all his ministry may heavenly grace 

Reign in his heart supreme; 
And in Thy house, and still in every place, 

May Christ be all his theme. 
i8 



With Thine own armor, Lord, Thy servant gird, 

And sanctify his tongue, 
That he may cease from man, and trust Thy word, 

And in Thy might be strong. 

This earthen vessel with Thy treasure fill; 

Daily Thy grace renew ; 
And may Thy doctrine from his tongue distil 

Like the refreshing dew. 

And as he speaks Thy words of holy cheer. 

We pray Thee, Lord, impart 
Unto Thy waiting ones the hearing ear. 

And understanding heart. 

If human wisdom, with deceiving glare. 

Would charm him to her seat, 
Or vain philosophy should weave a snare 

For his unguarded feet. 

The fatal lures of error may he spurn, 

All vain delusions flee ; 
And to the volume of Thy wisdom turn, 

And learn alone of Thee. 

We know the world, with its perplexing strife, 

And care, and vain turmoil, 
Will ofttimes mar his peace, and fill his life 

With trouble and with toil. 

But when his onward path grows rough and dim, 

And trials crowd his way, 
Oh, then, thou God of comfort, comfort him 

With Thine own peace, we pray. 

19 



Thus shall he learn to comfort such as be 

Through darkened pathways led, 
With the same consolations wherewith he 

Himself is comforted. 

If weary and o'erwrought he fainting stands, 

'Midst care, and doubt, and fear. 
Oh, teach Thy people to sustain his hands, 

And give him words of cheer. 

But most of all, grant Thou Thy servant, Lord, 
Fresh strength from hour to hour. 

That he may falter not, but speak Thy word 
With boldness and with power. 

And thus serenely may he walk the way 

Thy saints have ever trod, 
And labor gladly his appointed day, 

Under the smile of God. 

The work is Thine, the glory all Thine own ; 

In Thee Thy children live; 
When at Thy bidding precious seed is sown. 

Thou dost the increase give. 

Our thanks for all Thy gifts to Thee we bring, 

And grateful songs we raise ; 
To Thy great name, our Saviour and our King, 

Be everlasting praise. 



20 



'1 WILL ARISE AND GO TO MY 
FATHER " 

Father in heaven, to Thee, 

A weary child, I flee. 
In this still hour, the hush of toil and care ; 

And fain would reach Thine ear 

With words of suppliant fear. 
And breathe my yearnings unto Thee in prayer. 

This burden of unrest 

That loads my troubled breast, 
These longings after peace and hope divine, 

These penitential sighs. 

And panting hopes that rise, 
I cannot trust to any ear but Thine. 

A frail and erring child. 

Weak, tempted and beguiled. 
Beset with sins and sorrows, cares and fears, 

A prodigal, I come 

To find my Father's home. 
And seek His face in penitence and tears. 

And can I dare to claim 

A child's endearing name, 
I, but a worm, a brother of the clod? 

What manner, then, of love 

Hath blessed me from above. 
That I may deem myself a child of God ! 

21 



Oh, may Thy love divine 

Reign in this heart of mine ! 
Send forth in me the Spirit of Thy Son, 

That I to Thee may fly, 

And, "Abba, Father!" cry. 
Saying, in all things, ''Let Thy will be done/' 

My way I cannot see, 

But stretch my hands to Thee; 
Oh, lead me gently onward to Thy rest; 

Content may I receive 

Whatever Thou dost give, 
And bow submissive, feeling it is best. 

Remove these clogs of care. 

And wing my words of prayer 
With faith, that heavenward they may soar away ; 

A trustful mind bestow. 

And give my heart to know 
That Thou wilt hear Thy children when they pray. 

Of wrong and sin afraid, 

I humbly ask Thy aid. 
Father of mercies ! through life's thorny maze ; 

For every pure desire 

Thy Spirit must inspire. 
And Thou alone canst lead me in Thy ways. 

All holy things are Thine ! 

Oh, make this heart of mine 
Pure in Thy sight, and Thine it then shall be. 

My will to Thine subdue. 

My soul with grace renew, 
That nearer I may daily live to Thee. 

22 



In dark temptation's hour 

Oh, keep me by Thy power, 
And guard my heart when evil thoughts assail 

All holiest trust and love 

Shed on me from above, 
And grant me strength divine, for I am frail. 

Sustain my fainting heart ; 

Bid all my fears depart ; 
Childlike, I fain would yield to Thy control. 

In Thee may I rejoice. 

And hear Thy still, small voice 
Speak hope and comfort to my troubled soul. 

I would not have my life 

All marred with care and strife ; 
Earth's luring vanities I fain would flee, 

And with a holy love. 

That looks to things above. 
Would consecrate, O Father, all to Thee. 

Earth hath no balm to heal 

The maladies I feel ; 
No oil of joy to soothe the heart oppressed ; 

Thou only canst bestow 

Relief from sin and woe. 
And dews of healing for the wounded breast. 

Here in this sacred place 

May I behold Thy face, 
In the Beloved, smiling, reconciled ; 

Then peace and joy and love 

Shall lift my soul above, 
And I shall know, indeed, I am Thy child. 

23 



And life's perplexing cares, 

And sin's beguiling snares, 
Shall then no longer darken all my days 

But from my soul shall rise 

The constant sacrifice 
Of glad obedience, and of joyful praise. 

Father in heaven ! I flee 

To cast my cares on Thee; 
Speak to my spirit in Thy tones of love ; 

Watch o'er me here below, 

And keep me till I go 
To dwell forever in Thy house above. 



24 



MEMOIR 

I will write briefly of my brother, James B. 
Durand, who was born November 8, 1829, and died 
April 20, 1866. He was the ninth in a family of 
fourteen children of Daniel and Asenath Durand, of 
whom nine were sons. He was not strong in body, 
but had superior mental power, and his energetic 
mind and persistent disposition would often force his 
body to the accomplishment of work from which much 
stronger men would shrink. 

At the age of fifteen he left our home in Herrick, 
Bradford County, Pa., for the city of New Orleans, 
La., to live with an older brother, who had lived in 
that city many years. I was three years younger than 
he, and we both deeply felt this our first parting. 
During the years of his school life there he wrote 
much, both prose and verse, for the city papers. After 
about four years he returned home, where he taught 
two terms of school. Then he went again to New 
Orleans, where he remained, with the exception ot 
one or two visits home, until the beginning of the 
Civil War in 1861, engaged as bookkeeper and cor- 
responding clerk in a large commission house. He 
wrote much for publication. Once, during the 
absence of the literary editor of the Sunday Delta, 
he took that position for a short time, and during that 
time it was very evident that he could write what the 
people wanted to read. He was a constituent member 

25 



of the "J^^^^sonian Debating Society," afterwards 
named ''The Southern Literary Society,'' which in- 
cluded a number of the excellent young men of the city. 

In the summer of 1853 occurred the greatest and 
most terrible epidemic of yellow fever which had ever 
ravaged that city. The number of deaths rose in one 
day to 390. My brother was engaged with the 
Howard Society in seeking out cases among the poor, 
and rendering all needed help that was possible. He 
exerted himself beyond his strength, and the scourge 
finally attacked him. At our home we had heard 
from him often during the ravages of the terrible 
epidemic, as he always wrote home once a week, if 
not oftener. At this time we waited several weeks, 
in the greatest anxiety. At length we had a very brief 
letter, written as soon as he could hold a pen. The 
city was a scene of terror and desolation. In October 
of that year, as soon as I heard of a frost there, I 
went, and remained till the following July, when we 
both returned home. He returned to his work there 
in the fall, and I went again in 1855, remaining till 
the following June. During that time a younger 
brother, Warren, was there also, and he remained 
there for several years. This made six brothers who 
were residents of that city at sometime. One, George, 
ten years older than I, died there in 1843. None of 
us was ever there after the beginning of the war. 

At a meeting of the Southern Literary Society 
about the time of the beginning of the war, which 
was held in the largest auditorium in the city, before 
an immense audience, my brother read a poem in 
which a war between the lovely sister band of States 
was deprecated. The poem was most beautiful, 
impassioned, touching, and was listened to with rapt 

26 



and intense attention. The city was much excited 
at the time, as Fort Sumpter had been fired upon, and 
the sound of war was in the air. There was much 
difference of sentiment among the people. The popu- 
larity of my brother, and the kindly feeling universally 
entertained toward him, was manifested in the papers 
the next morning, even from those who were ready 
to welcome war. 

He returned home in 1861 and took a position 
in the Treasury Department in Washington, in which 
he continued for three years, when his health failed. 
He has told us in the relation of his experience, which 
will follow this memoir, some particulars of his life 
and exercises of mind at this time. 

After he became unable to work and returned to 
our home, he selected from his writings, both pub- 
lished and unpublished, such as he cared to preserve, 
and I have them in manuscript, in book form, but have 
never published them. He named the book "Evening 
Talks." The style is easy and graceful, both of the 
poetry and prose, and the sentiments clear and beau- 
tiful. Some of the essays have a pleasant humor. I 
will insert one of the poems. 

Silas H. Durand. 

Southampton, Pa. 



27 



OVER THE SEA 



Over the sea the ships are sailing, 

x\lways saiHng over the sea, 
And the west winds bear them onward 

Through the trackless waste with glee. 
Now they battle with cloud and tempest, 

Now they sleep in a sunny lea, 
Till they rest in the distant haven 

Over the sea. 

Over the sea our restless fancies. 
Fleeter than ships or breezes, go; 

Caring not for cloud or tempest. 
Waiting not for the winds to blow. 

Outward bound are our thoughts forever, 
And their sails float always free, 

Bearing them on without chart or compass, 
Over the sea. 

Over the sea the ships are sailing, 

And they pass by the Golden Isles, 
Hid away in the waste of waters, 
Where perennial beauty smiles. 
Now they pause by the shining beaches. 
Breathing odors from tower and tree ; 
Then away on their pathless journey, 
Over the sea. 
28 



Over the sea and beyond the billows, 
There are strange and marvellous lands 

Valleys that sleep in primeval beauty, 
Rivers that roll over golden sands ; 

Cities built in the by-gone ages, 
Ruins where grandeur used to be ; 

Palace and column and quaint old castles, 
Over the sea. 

Over the sea is the land of story. 
Over the sea is the realm of song ; 

And 'round temple and tower and hamlet 
Tale and legend and fable throng. 

From the mind in those olden places 
All the cares of the present flee, 

And we live in a land enchanted, 

Over the sea. 

Over the sea, on the tombs of nations 
Rests the fadeless sunshine of art ; 

And from column and arch and ruin 
Falls its glow on the pilgrim's heart. 

And the spirit of ancient beauty 
Still undying seems to be. 

Where it won its deathless triumphs, 
Over the sea. 

Over the sea brave chieftains battled 

In the old, heroic days. 
And their deeds still live and echo 
In the minstrel's cherished lays ; 
Then the feasts of knights and ladies 
Filled the quaint old halls with glee. 
When the battle-strife was ended. 
Over the sea. 
29 



Over the sea rest the sacred ashes 

Of those who toiled for the good of man ; 

There is the ground where the blood of martyrs, 
A blessed stream of redemption ran. 

There sleep the bards who have filled the ages 
With holy thoughts and tones of glee, 

Which come to us like the sounds of music, 
Over the sea. 

Over the sea the ships are sailing. 

Till the distant haven is found ; 
And like them with anchors lifted, 

Thought and fancy are outward bound. 
On to the realms of the distant future, 

On to the shores of the great To-be, 
Speed they always away from the present, 
Over the sea. 

Over the sea that stretches onward, 

With a waste of billowy years, 
Through the mists and clouds and tempests 

Hope its chartless journey steers. 
Far beyond is the Land Immortal, 

And the realms of the great To-be ; 
And but faint the beacons glimmer, 
Over the sea. 

Over the sea we all are sailing. 

Over the restless sea of life; 
And we pause at the Golden Islands, 

And we battle with tempest's strife. 
Soon shall the toils of the voyage be over. 

Folded soon shall the worn sails be, 
When we reach the Immortal Country, 
Over the sea. 

30 



EXPERIENCE 

Herrick, Pa., August 22, 1865. 

*'Be ready always to give an answer to every man 
that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you 
with meekness and fear." — i Peter iii: 15. 

It is a constant source of surprise and astonish- 
ment to me that I am an Old School Baptist. My 
friends and acquaintances cannot wonder at it more 
than I do. All of my natural tendencies seem to have 
been in an entirely opposite direction. When I think 
of it, and consider what a mass of pride, and vain 
imaginations, and all manner of seductive error had 
to be overcome; and what a self-asserting, rebellious, 
unbelieving spirit had to be subdued in me before my 
heart was opened to receive the trusting faith and the 
spiritual truths of the gospel ; and when I reflect upon 
the great change which was required to make me 
willing and anxious to follow Him who was meek 
and lowly of heart, and to join the Httle, despised, Old 
School Baptist Church where my name now stands as 
an unworthy member, it seems to me that such a 
change could only be effected by Him with whom all 
things are possible. Indeed I am enabled to hope and 
believe, with some confidence, that it was the Lord's 
work, fulfilling the words which He spake when He 
said : "I will bring the blind by a way that they knew 
not, and will lead them in paths that they have not 
known. I will make darkness light before them, and 

31 



crooked things straight. These things will I do unto 
them." Of this, at least, I feel assured: If I have 
indeed been delivered from the power of darkness, 
and translated into the kingdom of God's dear Son; 
if I have been enabled to cry ''Abba, Father," to wor- 
ship God in the spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus and 
have no confidence in the flesh, it has not been the 
result of any work or effort of my own, but alone 
through the free, effectual and renewing grace of God. 
It is, that He hath loved me with an everlasting love, 
and therefore with loving-kindness has drawn me. 
And so I "rejoice in hope," trusting that I have 
been led into the fold by the good Shepherd, who 
calleth His own sheep by name, and goeth before 
them; and the sheep follow Him, for they know His 
voice. 

While attending the Warwick Association in 
June, I was requested by several to write out my expe- 
rience for publication ; and since then the same request 
has been made by others. While I hardly hope to 
write out such a statement as will be satisfactory 
either to myself or any one else, yet in the face of 
the apostle's injunction placed at the head of this 
sheet, I do not feel at liberty to refuse. I desire to 
make the attempt ''with meekness and fear." 

I might state in general terms, and in a general 
way, the reason of my hope in Christ, as founded upon 
His complete work of redemption for His chosen peo- 
ple, and my belief that He had manifested himself 
to me as my Savior. But something more than this 
is desired. I am requested to give an account of all 
the way in which I have been led through the wilder- 
ness of sin and error into the beautiful land of hope 
and Christian belief. The most, however, that I can 

32 



expect to do, will be to make some imperfect and 
fragmentary notes of this strange journey; to give a 
few broken hints of what I have felt and feared and 
hoped; to gather up a few waifs from the great sea 
of past and restless years; to tell how, when the 
tempest was raging and there was no hope, I cried 
"Lord, save or I perish," and heard his blessed "Peace 
be still !" — and to say, in view of all these things, "O 
the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowl- 
edge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, 
and his ways past finding out! For of him, and 
through him, and to him are all things, to whom be 
glory forever!" 

We have all, at some time in our life, experienced 
occasional hours of such deep and varied and intense 
thought and feeling, that a full account of our exer- 
cises would fill pages. How then can one hope in the 
space of a single communication to give any adequate 
report of the struggles and fears and hopes of an agi- 
tated and perplexed soul through months and years? 
Who can adequately tell the story of one night spent 
under those piercing convictions of sin, when the light 
that shineth in darkness makes manifest one's true 
condition in the sight of a perfectly just and holy 
God, and enables him to see the horrible pit and miry 
clay in which he has been wallowing? And then 
when He who is mighty to help, takes up the trembling 
sinner from these depths of despair, and sets his feet 
upon a rock, and puts a new song in his mouth, what 
words can express his joy, and that peace of God which 
passeth all understanding? 

There is something so sacred and personal in 
these experiences that to publish them seems like 
throwing open one's bosom and exhibiting the pal- 

33 



pitating throbs of one's heart to the public gaze. 
Prayer is a large element in a Christian experience ; 
and our Savior's injunction is, "When thou prayest, 
enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy 
door, pray to thy Father which is in secret." To pub- 
lish the secrets of that closet to the world, if intended 
for the eyes of ''the world," would undoubtedly be 
wrong. And yet the heaven-born soul desires to make 
known the goodness of God; desires to sing the new 
song which has been put into his mouth ; and longs 
to tell, not to the world, but to "them that fear God," 
what the Lord has done for him. He says with the 
Psalmist, "I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in 
the presence of all his people." When with the chil- 
dren of our heavenly Father, sitting together in heav- 
enly places in Christ Jesus, we love to talk about this 
new life, and these "comforts of love," and these 
hopes and joys which are inexpressible and full of 
glory. Our brethren are made near and dear to us 
by the bonds of divine love, and they can understand 
us through the teachings of God to their own souls, 
and the fellowship of the same spirit; and thus the 
children of the kingdom "comfort themselves together" 
with the precious promises of the gospel, and by their 
"mutual faith" and hope and love. 

Looking over the past, through all the years of 
dimness and shadow which preceded my full awak- 
ening and deliverance, I find transient moments when 
I seemed to have a glimmering realization of the 
eternal realities which span this wonderful and mys- 
terious existence. I had read the Bible through at a 
very early age ; and even then my mind was filled 
with questionings upon the subjects thus brought to 
my attention. I could tell of boyish reflections and 

34 



resolutions and prayers, but presume all intelligent 
children experience the same. At the age of fifteen 
I left my home, to live in the city of New Orleans. I 
had never been away from home, and the thought 
of being separated so many hundred miles from my 
parents, brothers and sisters was a very serious one 
to me. The night before starting was spent in sleep- 
lessness and tears. I remember praying earnestly that 
God would watch over me and preserve me, so that 
I might see home once again. The only thought in 
these prayers, as I recall them now, was temporal care 
and protection. There was no penitent sense of sin, 
and no spiritual character to them ; but a mere feeling 
that God ruled all things, and could, and would if I 
prayed to Him sincerely, answer my prayers and pre- 
serve me from sickness and danger. And I made 
many promises that if He would grant my request, I 
would lead a better life and try and avoid every evil 
way. But the excitement of the journey, the constant 
interest of new and passing scenes, and the natural 
lightness of my heart drove all these thoughts away. 
When once in New Orleans, the attractions and 
excitements of city life, school pleasures, and, after- 
wards, the engrossing affairs of business and society 
fully occupied my mind. I rejoiced in my youth, and 
let my heart cheer me in the days of my youth, and 
walked in the ways of my heart and in the sight of 
my eyes, heeding not the warning voice of the 
preacher, the truth of whose words I have since learned 
by bitter experience, that "for all these things God 
will bring thee into judgment." I continued to read 
the Bible not only from habit, but because my intel- 
lectual taste was gratified by the poetry and sublimity 
in which many portions, especially the Psalms and 

35 



prophecies, are clothed. But the veil was before my 
eyes which hid from me its spiritual import. I was 
in the habit of attending church regularly, but my 
object was to go where I could hear the most polished 
and eloquent preachers, listen to the finest music and 
see the most fashionable congregations. 

Sometimes my natural emotions would be awak- 
ened and my feelings deeply touched by the warm and 
passionate appeals to which I listened; and I would 
renew my resolutions to lead a better life, and try 
and be a Christian. For a time I would read the 
scriptures with renewed application, and resume my 
prayers. And in these efforts I would feel consider- 
able self-complacency and satisfaction. I joined the 
"Young Men's Christian Association," a very numer- 
ous and popular religious society, and took an active 
part in its affairs. I thought the society of Christian 
young men would be beneficial to me. I also had 
many thoughts of the duty of making a public pro- 
fession of my regard for religion by joining some 
church. I was constantly urged from the pulpit to 
"come out on the Lord's side," and by so doing show 
to the world my approval of the beneficial character 
of religion. In looking around for a church to join, 
among the numerous sects and denominations, I 
thought that the Episcopal church would suit me 
better than any other. Its forms were solemn and 
imposing, its requirements very liberal, and it afforded 
scope for great freedom of belief. I did not fancy any 
strait and narrow way. This church was an institu- 
tion of high respectability, its members generally dis- 
tinguished for intelligence and refinement and all its 
services were conducted with propriety and decorum. 
No doubt these things have lured many a one, proud 

36 



and self-complaisant, as I then was, into her embrace. 
But the nearest I came to joining was considering the 
subject, and buying a prayer book. 

It has often been remarked that "man is naturally 
a religious being." I always had some kind of religion 
in my head, either gathered from books or spun out 
of my own imagination. I had no idea of a change 
of heart, of the new birth, of the Spirit's work in the 
soul; but only of an outward reformation of life. I 
looked upon religion as the perfection of morals, 
attainable as was any other kind of human excellence. 
My natural pride of character kept me from the out- 
spoken and prevalent vices of the city. I did not hate 
sin because it was hateful in the sight of God, but I 
hated low and vicious practices because they were 
unlovely in themselves, and were disreputable in good 
society. 

I had always possessed an active spirit of inquiry 
which constantly compelled me to investigate, and, if 
possible, explain the mysteries involved in the ques- 
tions, ''What is life?" ''What is death?" "Who and 
what is God?" I tried to "look through nature up to 
nature's God," and there bestow my worship. If I 
could not tell what I believed, it was still as difficult 
to tell what I did not believe. The intellectual society 
into which I was mostly thrown was of a rather 
"liberal" free thinking order, not atheistic, for that 
would have shocked me, but favoring what is known 
as "Progressive Christianity." I gradually imbibed 
its ideas, as they were flattering to my natural feelings, 
and as they repudiated those features which seemed so 
hard and harsh in orthodoxy. I gloried in the doc- 
trine of man's moral ability and intellectual supremacy. 
I regarded the cultivated intellect of man as the foun- 

37 



tain of the highest truth; thought nothing too high 
and nothing too deep for human comprehension ; and 
that reason was the test of all religious truth. And 
although I considered myself a sincere inquirer after 
truth, it was only in the philosophy of men, wherein 
I believed were *'hid all the treasures of wisdom and 
knowledge." I was fascinated with human specula- 
tions upon man's nature and destiny, and forgot 
entirely the injunction, ''If any man lack wisdom, let 
him ask of God, who giveth liberally and upbraideth 
not !" And under these teachings, my conscience was 
soothed and lulled by the Siren song, that the Eternal 
Benevolence would not punish with everlasting wrath 
the light and trifling sins and follies of youth. 

I have perhaps dwelt too long upon these things ; 
but I mention them to show what a mass of vain 
speculation and seductive error blinded me to the plain 
teachings of the scripture. I also mention them 
because the dragons of speculation, which I had 
become familiar with in these wastes of rationalism 
assailed me in my early experience, when, sinking 
without hope, I caught even at such straws for sup- 
port. But at that time philosophy only mocked my 
hungry soul. Its dim and doubtful conjecture could 
not give me any relief. Its glimmering lamp threw 
no light upon the awful darkness of the tomb. It 
brought back no message from the eternity which 
stretches beyond the grave. 

It sometimes seems to me that there is more hope 
for a heathen, who never heard of revealed religion, 
more hope of the conversion of an ignorant and 
degraded outcast, who had always lived in an atmos- 
phere of vice and crime and who had never given one 
thought to serious things, than for one whose head 

38 



had been filled with all manner of erroneous religious 
speculations. But he ''who worketh and none can 
hinder," can turn the wisdom of man into foolishness, 
and bring- the proudest and vainest heart down into 
the dust of contrition and humility at the foot of the 
cross, there to plead for mercy. 

It is somewhat strange and inconsistent that, with 
all my vagrant religious theories, I always held, as an 
intellectual belief, the doctrine of God's overruling 
providence, and His foreknowledge and absolute pre- 
destination of all things. This belief was to my mind 
a logical necessity, resulting inevitably from the 
acknowledged character of God, as an omnipotent, 
omniscient and omnipresent being. It also seemed to 
me the plain and unmistakable teaching of the scrip- 
tures. I did not attempt to reconcile it with my 
notions of man's moral ability and freedom in working 
out his own destiny. In fact, I tried to perform the 
impossibility required by modern teachers, of believing 
that both doctrines are true. I often contended 
warmly with my acquaintances for the doctrine of the 
absolute sovereignty of God, though I did not see in 
that doctrine then, as I now do, His electing love, and 
the only ground of hope for the salvation of sinners. 
During this period, something, I know not what, 
induced me to take the "Signs." In reading it I 
became familiar with the general doctrine and belief 
of the Old School Baptists, though I thought it a 
harsh, crabbed paper, and in every way unsym- 
pathizing with man's highest nature and noblest aspira- 
tions ; as it put so small an estimate upon the popular 
institutions of the age, and the elevating tendency of 
intellectual progress. 

39 



In letters received from home, I was informed of 
the severe troubles of mind which my sister Bessie 
experienced in her passage from darkness to light, 
bringing her almost to the grave ; and which she has 
told in the relation of her experience as published in 
the "Signs." Loving her always most deeply, and 
sympathizing with her in her troubles and distress 
to an extent that almost unfitted me for business, 1 
laid all the blame of it upon the Old School Baptists. 
I considered it the result of their harsh and cruel doc- 
trine acting upon a tender and sensitive mind ; and 
my feelings of bitterness against them were intense. 
I remember writing some bitter things on the subject 
to my brother Silas ; denouncing those who taught and 
encouraged the belief that the new birth must be 
accompanied by such throes of agony. I never lost 
the feeling thus acquired, until I was brought myself 
to taste the wormwood and the gall, which had been 
gathering for me in the cup of sin and folly. Then I 
no longer blamed the Old School Baptists, but only my 
own perverse and wicked heart; and I then saw that 
their doctrine, instead of being "harsh and cruel," was 
the only doctrine that gave any hope to such a help- 
less, despairing sinner, as I was ; for it told of a full, 
free, complete salvation in Christ for all who were 
laboring and heavy laden under the burden of sin, 
and who were brought to cry for mercy. 

In July, 1861, three months after the war com- 
menced, finding myself in precarious health, and 
effectually cut off from all communication with home, 
I resolved to venture the trip through the lines ; and 
much to the surprise of my family, as well as myself, 
reached home in safety. During 1863 and the first 
part of 1864 I filled a clerkship in the Treasury 

40 



Department at Washington. The duties of my of^ce, 
and the war-excitements of the Capital engrossed my 
mind so completely, that I had but little time or 
inclination to think upon those serious things which 
are of such deep personal interest. Sometimes, how- 
ever, they would come surging over my mind with 
great power; especially when visiting the crowded 
hospitals after a battle, and seeing and conversing with 
the mangled and suffering victims of war. At such 
times, human life, which I had regarded as so sacred 
and precious, so dignified and grand in its attributes 
and relations, would seem to me valueless, mean and 
ephemeral. I felt as though I could say with the 
preacher, "I have seen all the works that are done 
under the sun, and behold all is vanity and vexation 
of spirit. For there is no remembrance of the wise 
more than of the fool forever, seeing that which now 
is, in the days to come shall all be forgotten." Death 
seemed only the extinguishing of a spark, and I some- 
times feared I should falter in my belief of a future 
life. When I witnessed vast bodies of troops 
thronging the streets, and thought how each individual 
was lost in the sweeping mass, regarded only as an 
atom of physical force in the surging columns, the 
individual man seemed to sink into utter insignifi- 
cance; and I could understand how, in the sight of 
the great God, the multitudes of earth "were but as 
grasshoppers," and less than nothing, and vanity. I 
could not help thinking how each one of those unnoted 
thousands had been born into the world as unheeded 
as the expanding of a bud in the midst of the forest; 
how each one, while flattering himself of his own 
importance, had lived on, toiling, resting, sorrowing, 
rejoicing; and yet all these agitations in his life had 

41 



been to the world as unimportant as the trembling of 
a leaf or the ripple of a wave. And when, one after 
another, each of these restless thousands shall drop 
away, and the dust shall close over him, it will be as 
though a drop of rain had sunk into the bosom of the 
earth. Under the pressure of such thoughts, I was 
awed by a sense of my own insignificance, and even 
shuddered lest the great Creative Eye, itself, should 
overlook me, and leave me to sink unmarked into 
nothingness. 

But then, again, in quietude and retirement, 
thinking of the experiences of my own life, feeling it 
animated by peculiar hopes and anxieties, and girt 
about with a circlet of the most precious affections, I 
would become reassured; and see that there was an 
awful and sacred reality in life. And then my mind 
would reach forward towards the great future — that 
future which stretches away into an endless eternity; 
and my whole being would throb and pulsate with 
undefinable anxieties, and dim aspirations after a better 
and higher life; and half formed hopes and fears 
would fill my soul, as I blindly grasped after some 
far-off and unattained reality. 

I remember that often, at such times, there would 
come over me such a sense of sinfulness, and utter 
unworthiness, as I thought of the holiness of God, 
and the glory of that better life as portrayed in the 
scriptures, and as revealed to John upon the Isle of 
Patmos, that I could only feel the impossibility of my 
ever realizing its unspeakable joys. And I recall 
times, through many past years, when, perhaps in the 
whirl of business or pleasure, or walking the streets, 
but most frequently in the still watches of the night, a 
sense of the utter sinfulness of my nature, the deceit- 

42 



fulness of my heart, the unworthiness of my motives, 
and my absolute lack of that moral excellence which I 
had so often promised myself, would so come over me 
that my life seemed to me an ignominious failure. I 
felt as though I would like to hide away from all eyes, 
and I thoroughly hated myself for being what I was. 
Whether these feelings were merely natural, or the 
result of a gleam of spiritual light, I do not know. 

I attended church but seldom in Washington. At 
first, I visited most of the churches out of curiosity; 
but as I heard little from the pulpit except harangues 
upon war and politics, and as I had enough of that 
outside, I entirely ceased going. I did not at that 
time know that there was an Old School Baptist 
church in Washington, or I should doubtless have 
visited that also. 

In February, 1864, I was called home to see my 
brother Warren, who was not at that time expected 
to live. I found him in the condition which he has 
described in his communication to the ''Signs." My 
brother Silas had also been called home, and we had, 
indeed, a serious and solemn time. During those sad 
days of anxiety and nights of watching, we had many 
a serious talk upon the subject of religion, and my 
mind was agitated deeply. Having only a month's 
leave of absence, as Warren somewhat improved, I 
returned to Washington, my soul greatly disquieted 
within me. Convictions of my own real condition 
before God, as a sinner, came over me, and occupied 
my thoughts much of the time. I tried to fight them 
off with my philosophy — tried to convince myself that 
they were only the results of mental excitement, and 
that there had been really nothing in my life to justify 
such feelings of condemnation. Failing in this I 

43 



thought to banish my troubles of mind by appHcation 
to business, and in the excitements and blandishments 
of society. Though I could not drown the reproach- 
ful voices within me, I succeeded, to some extent in 
dulling their sharpness. I felt as though I could say 
in the language of the hundred and thirty-ninth 
psalm : ''O Lord, thou hast searched me and known 
me. Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? or whither 
shall I flee from thy presence? If I say surely the 
darkness shall cover me ; even the night shall be light 
about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee." 
Being always of delicate health, my constant anxiety 
on Warren's account, my own troubles of mind, 
together with the exhausting confinement of my daily 
business, prostrated me with a severe fit of sickness, 
which brought me to the very brink of the grave. 
And what a month of sickness that was to me, — sick- 
ness of body and of mind, — helpless with disease and 
despairing of soul ! My whole past life rose before 
me as one black record of rebellion to God's holy law. 
The follies and wickedness of my youth, the deceit- 
fulness of my heart and the unholiness of all my 
motives and desires, stared me in the face; and I 
felt that, truly, "for all these things God had brought 
me into judgment." With my room-mate, and also 
with the lady of the house where I was staying, I 
often talked upon the subject, as my troubles were 
so great that I could not keep them entirely to myself. 
One night it was thought by all present, as well as by 
myself, that the last hour had come, when the golden 
bowl should be broken. Those around my bed were 
in tears, (comparative strangers though they were,) 
and I gave some few directions in regard to my affairs. 
As my breath became shorter, and my eyes seemed 

44 



to grow dim with the shadows of the dark valley, my 
mind became clear and comparatively placid ; and I 
looked death calmly in the eye. I shall never forget 
that hour. I think I realized then, to a great extent, 
what it is to die. And, in that awful hour, I felt an 
undefined hope in the mercy of God through Christ, 
and a quieting sense of resignation. Strange as it 
seemed to all, I survived the night. The next day my 
physician advised that I should be taken home as soon 
as it was possible for me to endure the journey. My 
brother Silas was sent for to accompany me home. 
After his arrival, Elder W. J. Purington, informed by 
him of my sickness, called to see me twice ; but I said 
nothing to him about the troubles of mind which I 
had been passing through. Not being able to sit up 
much, the journey home was a severe one. But once 
at home, I continued to improve faster than I expected. 
During the month I remained at home, my serious 
thoughts and feelings continued and I spent much of 
my time in reading the scriptures. Though still 
laboring under convictions of sin, yet much of their 
intensity and sharpness had gone ; and a dim and unde- 
fined hope seemed to gleam in upon my soul, like a 
star glimmering through mists and clouds. It was 
not so much a belief that I was a subject of grace, 
as a hope that I should become so. I prayed earnestly 
for some manifestation of the forgiveness of my sins ; 
that God would create in me a clean heart, and renew 
a right spirit within me, and reveal to me the Lamb 
of God who taketh away the sins of the world, as my 
Savior. I thought I felt truly a hungering and 
thirsting after righteousness, and hoped that some- 
time I should realize the blessing and be filled. I had 

45 



lost all confidence in myself, in my own good resolu- 
tions and efforts, and felt that only God by His 
almighty power was able to save me. 

My leave of absence having expired, I concluded 
to go back to my place again, though against the 
advice of physician and friends. One strong reason 
for my wishing to return was, that I might see and 
talk with Elder Purington, and hear him preach. 1 
hoped, by opening my mind fully to him., he might 
have some word of hope and encouragement for me. 
The trip back proved too much for my debilitated 
system, and after one day at the office, I was again 
prostrated; and my physician insisted upon my imme- 
diate return home again. So without seeing Elder 
Purington, I was accompanied home by a friend. This 
journey over, and once more in my own bed, with 
my family around me, I became, from the overstrain 
of travel, completely prostrated ; and I doubt if any 
one thought I would rally again. And with the sick- 
ness came again my piercing distress of mind. I shall 
not attempt to describe it, for I was indeed in the gall 
of bitterness. I could say, "Have pity upon me, have 
pity upon me, O ye my friends, for the hand of God 
hath touched me!" I have no doubt but that my 
mental sufferings were greatly aggravated and intensi- 
fied by my physical condition ; but as I felt them then, 
and look back to them now, they were awfully real. 
It was not only the sins that I had committed which 
gave me trouble, but the wicked nature and evil heart 
which I felt myself to possess. I seemed to have been 
endowed with a new and acute sense, testing every 
event of my past life, and every desire and motion of 
my heart, and detecting the hidden ingredients of sin, 
even in my best thoughts and actions ; similar to those 

46 



delicate yet powerful chemical tests which detect the 
smallest particles of poison. Was it not the light 
shining in darkness, and the darkness comprehending 
it not? Even the hope which I had faintly entertained 
added poignancy to my distress. It was gone, now, 
and it appeared to me to have been only the hope of 
the hypocrite which should fail. In the light of God's 
holy but broken law, I saw only my just condemna- 
tion. Still I could not bear the idea of eternal ban- 
ishment from the presence of God. I desired to be 
saved, to be changed, to be made holy ; but saw no 
way in which I could be made just with God. My 
father, mother and sisters were with me, and said what 
they could for my encouragement. My father talked 
and prayed with me, at my bedside, pointing me to 
Him who is able to save even to the uttermost. 

I remember when sitting up in the rocking-chair, 
reclining my head upon my sister's arm, to try and 
get a little of that repose which I so much needed, 
and which I could not get in bed, I thought if I could 
only lean my head upon the Savior's bosom, as the 
beloved disciple did, I should find rest to my soul. At 
last, in unformed and unvoiced prayers for mercy, I 
felt that I could do nothing but resign myself into 
the hands of God. And with this giving up of the 
struggle came an interval of rest. I know not how 
it came, but in the morning the waves that had surged 
over my troubled soul were hushed, and "there was a 
great calm." I found myself in possession of a strange 
deep sense of peace. It seemed as though the thunders 
and the whirlwind and the earthquake had passed by, 
and I was now listening to "the still small voice." I 
could not account for it. My sense of condemnation 
had entirely left me, and though feeling no out- 

47 



bursting joy, I felt myself in an atmosphere of peace 
and rest. I tried to think and understand how this 
peace had come but could not. Had I been fanned by 
that heavenly breeze that bloweth where it listeth? 
Could it be "the peace of God which passeth under- 
standing?" And then was formed within me the hope 
that it was the new birth — that old things had passed 
away, and all things had become new. 

My sister Bessie came into the room and asked 
me how I felt. I told her of this peace. She said she 
knew it would come, and that as soon as she entered 
the door and saw my face she knew it had come. The 
first passage of scripture which rested upon my mind 
that morning was : "And of Zion it shall be said, this 
man was born in her." It ran thro' my mind con- 
stantly during the day. Wherever I might direct my 
mind, it would continually recur to that, until I began 
to draw some assurance from it. Then I tried to think 
what it was to be born in Zion, and to recall some of 
those "glorious things" which are spoken of her, the 
city of God. "God is known in her palaces for a 
refuge." Oh, if I could only feel fully assured that 
of me "the Lord shall count when he writeth up the 
people, that this man was born there," what a joy it 
would be. "For there the glorious Lord shall be unto 
us a place of broad rivers and streams." And as I 
recalled these things I felt as though I could join in 
the prophet's exclamation and say, "Let the children of 
Zion be joyful in their King," — and breathings of 
gratitude and thanksgiving went up from my heart 
to God. 

Although through all these exercises my mind had 
dwelt much upon the work of Christ, and I realized 
that there was no other name under heaven, given 

48 



among men whereby we could be saved, yet I was 
now troubled that I had not had a more distinct view 
of Him as my Savior ; that I had not had some striking 
personal manifestation of Him as Mediator, as having 
borne my sins, and fulfilled the law in my stead. 
These thoughts, while they troubled me for a couple 
of days, did not disturb my hope or drive away that 
deep peace which I felt. I remembered the 
blessed assurance, "Thou wilt keep him in per- 
fect peace whose mind is stayed on thee." I was 
enabled to appropriate to myself many of the promises 
of the gospel; and I thought it might be with me as 
it was with the disciples when Jesus drew near, "but 
their eyes were holden and they knew him not," 
although their hearts burned within them as he talked 
with them by the way. And I trusted that as he had 
revealed himself to them in the breaking of bread, so 
he would in due time reveal himself fully to me. I 
desired to learn of Him ; and I prayed that he would 
be my teacher, would reveal His own, truth in my 
soul, and establish me in it; that I might not only see 
and understand the finished salvation which he had 
wrought for all His people, but that I might rejoice in 
its consolations and live in its power. 

In the light of reason and natural religion I had 
only seen God as the Creator, but through these 
spiritual experiences I felt that I could now look up 
to Him as a compassionate and loving Father. And 
thinking upon this, I comforted myself with these 
words : "And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth 
the spirit of his Son into your hearts crying, "Abba, 
Father." And so, day by day, I realized, more and 
more, that all spiritual blessings, life, holiness, hap- 
piness; all the provisions of grace, mercy and peace, 

49 



are given to us in Christ. I learned also this truth, 
that when we are able to receive things they are given 
to us. God continually teaching and his children con- 
tinually learning, they *'grow in grace and in the 
knowledge of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ." 
Underneath all my doubts and perplexities, and sense 
of indwelling sin and unworthiness, there was a placid 
current of truth and peace which made me feel that 
God had indeed "done great things for me whereof 
I was glad." And as I thought upon God's sover- 
eignty and his electing love, I realized how it is that 
only by the felt certainty of experience does opinion 
change into soul-satisfying belief. 

I cannot pretend to give an account of the way 
ni which I was *'led about and instructed," during 
those two months of convalescence, before I presented 
myself to the church. The contest between faith and 
unbelief, between my late piercing experiences and 
my old rationalistic notions, was protracted. The 
dragons of speculation gave me many a severe 
encounter. But though perplexed I was not left in 
despair, though cast down I was not destroyed. For 
it is said that they who wait on the Lord shall renew 
their strength. They shall run and not be weary, shall 
walk and not faint. 

I sometimes thought I could realize what true and 
living faith is — "the substance of things hoped for, 
the evidence of things not seen." But who can put 
into words the height and depth and extent of such 
spiritual experiences? There are elements in them 
which language cannot compass. Like an unmeasured 
ocean they stretch away into infinity. These currents 
of vital, consecrating spiritual influences, coming from 
fountains which we see not, and entering in through 

50 



avenues which we have never left open, can only be 
communicated to others by being ''revealed from faith 
to faith." The soul, rejoicing in a new-born sense of 
divine relationship, feeds upon "hidden manna," and 
drinks from fountains whose streams never mingle 
with the babbling flow of worldly springs. And thus 
we feel that we, who were afar off, are made nigh by 
the blood of Christ. And we watch and wait for those 
blessed moments, which come at intervals to all the 
children of God, when the blessed Savior visits us with 
His smiling presence, and heaven seems graciously to 
open on our minds ; and we feel the love of God, the 
fellowship of His Son, and the communion of the 
Holy Spirit; and our whole being is swallowed up in 
adoration and praise. 

The duty of following my Savior in the ordinance 
of baptism, was strongly impressed upon my mind, 
and I was drawn towards the church. The eighty- 
fourth psalm expressed my feelings in that respect. 
"How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! 
My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of 
the Lord. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house; 
they will be still praising thee." Though feeling 
entirely unworthy to occupy even the humblest place 
among the children of God, yet I could not repress the 
desire that I might "dwell in the house of the Lord 
all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the 
Lord and to inquire in his temple." The teachings 
of the scriptures had been confirmed by my experience 
that "Salvation is of the Lord," and "according to 
his own mercy and grace given us in Christ Jesus 
before the world began." And as I believed that the 
Old School Baptist Church was the true church of 
God, teaching this doctrine, and holding fast to the 

51 



faith once delivered to the saints, I was drawn towards 
that church as the only place where I could find a 
home. Although I had heard but three or four Old 
School Baptist sermons since I was a boy, yet through 
the "Signs of the Times" and by intercourse with 
those of our family who belonged to that church, I 
had a general knowledge of their doctrine and order. 
During these two months my brothers, Silas and 
Warren, had been baptized, though separated from 
each other and from me, and not aware of each other's 
intentions. And now I could rejoice with them and 
in their hope. 

As soon as I was well enough to attend, I tried 
to relate some of these things to the Asylum Church. 
I found it difficult to tell anything that I thought would 
satisfy them, and when I sat down I was almost cer- 
tain they would not receive me. But they did with 
warm expressions of fellowship. Two weeks after- 
wards, (August 28th, 1864,) I was baptized by Eld. 
Chester Schoonover, and received the right hand of 
fellowship, welcoming me to all the trials and afflic- 
tions, as well as the joys and consolations of the 
church of Christ. The two weeks which intervened 
between the time of my reception by the church and 
my baptism, were long ones ; filled with doubts and 
fears and temptations. I feared that I had been 
deceived and that I had misled the church. Many a 
time I was made to cry out under these doubts and 
temptations, ''Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief! 
Deliver me from temptation. Leave me not to myself 
again, for vain is the help of man. Show me thy 
ways, O Lord, teach me thy paths. Lead me in thy 
truth and teach me, for thou are the God of my salva- 
tion!" But on that beautiful Sunday morning, as I 

5» 



stood on the banks of the Susquehanna, its waters 
sparkHng in the sunHght, and Hstened to the brethren 
as they sang a hymn, the words of our blessed Savior 
passed through my mind: "Suffer it to be so now, 
for thus it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness," 
and I felt willing and hopeful and happy. 

A few days ago, August 17th, 1865, almost one 
year after the time above mentioned, on a similar 
bright morning I stood by the water-side and saw our 
beloved Elder Beebe lead into the water and bury with 
Christ in baptism my youngest sister, the one on whose 
arm I lay when 'Teace" was spoken to my troubled 
soul. And I could not help mentioning it here, as the 
connection of the two events occurred to my mind, 
and my soul swelled with gratitude to God for such 
wonderful blessings. 

Since my connection with the church I have 
enjoyed a degree of peace in believing which has 
enabled me to "rejoice in hope." I have learned to 
bless those piercing experiences which showed me what 
manner of man I was ; which let into my soul the light 
of divine truth, and taught me that I must look alone 
to Christ as my helper. At times I have been enabled 
to feel a spirit of resignation to the will of my heav- 
enly Father, and to say: "It is good for me to be 
afflicted, for before I was afflicted I went astray, but 
now I do hope in thy word." I should not be able 
to receive even these bitter and striking exercises as 
a sufficient ground of hope, if that hope had not been 
since confirmed by the continued manifestation of a 
Savior's love to my soul; and by finding implanted 
within me new desires after holiness of life, and a 
longing after union and communion with God. I see 
that the imaginations of my natural heart are still evil, 

53 



that I am "subject to vanity, though not willingly," 
that my walk and conversation are not what they 
should be. And I can plainly perceive "a law in my 
members warring against the law of my mind, and 
bringing me into captivity to the law of sin, which 
is in my members." I have fightings without and 
fears within, but I trust the Lord will sustain mc 
through them all "by the right hand of his righteous- 
ness." I pray that He may renew unto me daily the 
joys of His salvation — that He will not only save 
me from the penalties of sin, but from the accursed 
thing itself; that He will save me continually from 
pride and envy and hypocrisy; from strife and igno- 
rance and unbelief, and from every evil way ; and that 
He will so replenish me with His grace that I may 
ever walk as becometh one of His children. That, 
looking to Jesus for strength, and help, and guidance, 
I may ever be enabled "to deal justly, love mercy, and 
walk humbly before God." 

When I look at myself, at the corruptions of my 
heart, and the disobedience of my life, I am cast down 
and discouraged. But when I am enabled, by faith, 
to look away from self, and behold Christ as our wis- 
dom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption, as 
the perfection of His people, I am made to rejoice with 
joy unspeakable and full of glory. Sometimes, when 
filled with doubts and darkness, I think if I were truly 
a child of grace it would not be so, for true religion 
gives peace and joy. And again when I feel a good 
degree of spiritual enjoyment I am ready to blame 
myself that I am not bowed down with shame at my 
own unworthiness before God; and thus I strive "to 
make sad the heart which God has not made sad." 
And the apostle says, "Rejoice evermore!" 

54 



This communication is already much too long ; yet 
I feel that it is a very inadequate attempt, and I submit 
it for publication with no little hesitation. 

In conclusion, I feel as though it became me, like 
Hezekiah, ''to walk softly before the Lord all the days 
of my life," because of my transgressions. And I 
trust that through all the trials, afflictions and tempta- 
tions of life, I may be enabled, through grace, to say, 
^'Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath 
dealt bountifully with thee ! He who has become thy 
salvation, will also be thy shield and thy song; the 
strength of thy heart as well as thy portion forever!" 

James B. Durand. 



LAST HOURS 

The scenes and conversation described and recited 
in the following letter are as clear and distinct in my 
mind to-day as when they took place, more than forty- 
two years ago. How often, when temptations to 
doubt have assailed me, have I seen again the heav- 
enly light shining in those eyes, which but a little time 
before had apparently closed in death. Surely, I have 
said to my soul, that was a glorious reality. Those 
eyes that had often expressed deep sorrow on account 
of sin, and that had been filled at times with the shades 
of death, were now looking through and far beyond 
death, and were most certainly seeing glorious reali- 
ties. Even to an unbeliever it must have been apparent 
that a wonderful change had taken place in that soul, 
and a wonderful revelation must have been seen and 
felt. 

; >'. 55 



Herrick, Pa., May i, i86y^ 
My Dear Brother Beebe : 

I have felt that I would like to say something to 
you, and to our family circle of brethren and sisters 
who read the "Signs," about the last hours of our 
dear brother James. If I could so relate what we 
witnessed as to give an adequate idea of the manner 
of his departure, I know it would be of interest to 
all who, through the truth, are resting in hope of 
immortality, and looking for the glorious appearing 
of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. But how to 
tell it; how to tell of his patient waiting and trust; 
of his cheerful and uncomplaining endurance through 
years of bodily affliction; of the calmness with which 
he bore the last few weeks of intense suffering; of 
the peculiar trials that so active a mind must pass 
through in looking forward to death; and of the 
serenity of mind in which, to his own wonder, he was 
kept, amid all the shadows cast by the approaching 
King of Terrors; and, last of all, of his wonderful 
deliverance, and the glory of heaven that shone upon 
him as the gates were lifted up for him to enter in; 
when he presented an example of the fulfillment of that 
promise that they who wait upon the Lord shall renew 
their strength, and "shall mount up with wings as 
eagles." 

He had for many years been afflicted with heart 
disease and paralytic affection, and was a great suf- 
ferer at times, yet his persistent energy in business, 
and his cheerfulness and vivacity in social circles, 
made him appear to his acquaintances very little like 
an invalid. About two years ago he was obliged to 
give up all business, and had remained at home ever 

56 



since, passing many a weary day and sleepless night, 
but never complaining, and seldom failing of that 
cheerfulness of spirit which constantly enlivened the 
home circle, and added to the enjoyment of those 
around him. Some of his spiritual exercises he has 
told to the readers of the "Signs" within the past two 
years. Since the time of his uniting with the church 
his mind had been very much engaged upon spiritual 
subjects, and his conversation was mainly upon 
the one theme. He formerly wrote much for publi- 
cation; but since then when he was able to write it 
was upon the subject of religion. 

I cannot forbear to allude here to the great 
humility, and the retiring spirit, manifested upon this 
subject by one who, upon all other subjects, had 
always been so independent. He was very fearful lest 
he should appear to be in opposition to the Word ; and 
greatly distrusting his own understanding, he looked 
to the voice of the church much with the same spirit 
with which a little child attends to the voice of its 
mother; yet he could receive as truth only what he 
saw in the Word. He seemed to feel that it was too 
assuming for him to present publicly his own views, 
especially where they appeared to conflict in any way 
with those of others. 

About the middle of March, having been out a 
short distance to an evening meeting, he was taken 
with severe spasms in the chest and a great laboring 
for breath. From that time he kept his room, though 
able to sit up, until within two hours of his departure. 
He used all efforts, as he had always done, to obtain 
relief, but it was evident that from the first he regarded 
this as his last sickness. Yet he did not at any time 
speak directly of it as such. It seems as though it 

57 



was out of consideration and anxiety for our feelings 
that he avoided seeming to give up hope of recovery. 
He did, however, speak of it as different from any 
sickness he had ever had before, and was without that 
vivacity which he usually had in sickness. He seldom 
smiled, though his face wore an expression of serenity 
most of the time. He had occasionly great depression 
of mind, when he would speak of a strange feeling 
of loneliness, which the presence of friends could not 
overcome. Once he repeated in a sad, wistful tone, 
"Though a man live many years and rejoice in them 
all, yet let him remember the days of darkness, for 
they shall be many." He talked a great deal on 
religious subjects, and loved to dwell upon the love 
and unity of spirit which exists among Christians, and 
which should be manifested. One of his favorite 
stanzas, which he often repeated, was : 

*'How pleasant, how divinely fair, 
O Lord of hosts, Thy dwellings are ; 
With long desire my spirit faints 
To meet the assembly of the saints." 

"O how very carefully," he remarked, "one ought 
to walk who is a member of the Church of Christ. It 
is a great thing to be a consistent Old School Baptist." 
He spoke frequently of the duty of visiting the 
brethren, and especially the sick. "When one is suf- 
fering," he said, "the mind often cannot think con- 
nectedly, nor recall even familiar portions of scrip- 
ture ; but he can follow another, and receive great 
comfort in listening to conversation and prayer. 
Therefore how necessary it is to visit the sick." He 
expressed himself as greatly comforted in listening to 
father in prayer, who was himself very feeble. 

58 



I was away from home when he was taken sick, 
expecting to remain some time, and he would not have 
me called home lest he might be calling me from duty. 
I did not know how severe his sickness was, but one 
day I had a peculiar experience or vision. It 
appeared to me that I was walking along with my 
brother, as in a dream, when he went on away from 
me in a forward and upward direction. The next day 
I went home, arriving a week before his death. He 
seemed unusually glad to see me. After conversing 
a while he said, "I feel lonesome. It is hard to feel 
lonesome when all the family are here." Once, as we 
sat together in the night, he repeated very solemnly, 
"In the day of prosperity be joyful; in the day of 
adversity consider; God also hath set the one over 
against the other, to the end that man should find 
nothing after him." I was enquiring one day what 
would be an appropriate subject for a circular letter 
which I was appointed to write. He said, "Take some 
subject relating to the love which should bind the 
members of the church together; or take the subject 
of the death-bed of the Christian, and show what will 
comfort and sustain him there; for that is what all 
are thinking of ; and to deliver from the fear of death 
is said to be the object of our Saviour in taking flesh 
and blood upon him." He then mentioned this 
passage as one he had never seen or heard 
explained : "Yea, though I walk through the valley 
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou 
art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort 
me." Then I knew that he felt the shadow of death 
upon him. But he did not speak directly of his 
own death at that or at any other time. 

I allude to these things that you may know some- 

59 



thing of the disposition of his mind, of his occasional 
depression and anxiety in looking forward, of the 
calmness and trust that controlled his fear, and of 
his patience under intense pain ; so that thus following 
him, you may see, as we did, the sudden and wonder- 
ful breaking forth of light and joy upon his soul. 

One night as he lay in unconsciousness I opened 
the Bible and turned to Ecclesiastes, hoping to find 
some comfort. The first words that met my eye were : 
"No man hath power over the spirit to retain the 
spirit, neither hath any power in the day of death ; and 
there is no discharge in that war." I was startled, 
and said to myself, *T ought to have opened to the 
Psalms for comfort," as I hastily turned back. My 
eyes instantly rested upon these words : "Thou wilt 
strengthen him upon the bed of languishing ; thou wilt 
make all his bed in his sickness." Then I knew that 
he must soon go from us. The next day, as we all 
sat in conversation, I told of the words in the Psalm 
which I had opened to in the night, without alluding 
to the words in Ecclesiastes. He turned to me with 
unusual animation and said, "That is the first scripture 
I saw after I was taken sick." A very pleasant smile 
was on his face then. 

He was speaking one day of the little meetings 
of brethren in conference, how pleasant they were, 
and how delightful it was when of an afternoon there 
was singing, conversation on spiritual things, and. 
prayer. "But," he said, "when we come to the sick 
room, and to weary, painful nights, it is different. 
Then religion is brought down to its spirit and 
essence ; then our hope is tried." He spoke freely of 
his own hope, that it had not failed him ; that he 
could not but look the more earnestly to Christ the 

60 



more he saw of his own depravity and helplessness. 
Amid all his bodily suffering, he said he had great 
peace and quietness of mind, but did not realize that 
manifest presence of the Saviour, nor that great joy, 
which he would like to. 

For many days he had been unable to sleep on 
account of spasms which caught him whenever he 
lost consciousness. Our mother and sisters, who had 
so often watched him in sickness, were always, one or 
more of them, with him. About three o'clock on the 
morning of the 20th of April, after a spell of sickness, 
greater, he said, than he had ever known before, he 
walked from the chair to the bed, saying, "Now, if 
all is quiet perhaps I can get a little sleep." He failed 
rapidly, and made no objection to have the whole 
family called. He had always before objected to have 
any broken of rest more than was necessary in 
attending him. He was soon unable to lift his head. 
His sufferings were still intense, and he kept his hands 
clasped, as if in supplication. I asked if he found the 
Saviour precious. "O, yes," he replied, "I have found 
him so all through my sickness; but I do not enjoy 
what I want to." All was then quiet for some time. 
Father and mother, brothers and sisters, stood silently 
and he lay quietly. Finally, as his eyes grew dim and 
his hearing seemed to fail, I asked in a loud voice, 
*'Do you feel as though you were going home?" He 
opened his eyes slowly, with a kind of sad expression, 
and said very slowly, "O, Silas, don't talk of that now ; 
I have been so sick and so troubled all night." He 
was a long time saying that, and then we thought he 
would speak no more, for the look of death came over 
his face, his eyes closed, his lips parted and grew fixed, 
and his moaning breath grew fainter. He lay thus 

61 



for perhaps a quarter of an hour, and we were looking 
for the last breath, which seemed almost to have come, 
when his lips appeared trying to move again. Sud- 
denly they formed plainly the words: "Great glory! 
Amen !" And he raised himself without help in bed, 
and opened his eyes, filled with a clear, unearthly 
radiance, brighter and at the same time milder than 
anything I ever saw, while a smile of perfect happi- 
ness overspread his face. 'Traise the Lord !'' he said. 
"O how I love my Saviour ! How can I help loving 
Him, He is so beautiful ! and He has loved me with 
an everlasting love. Behold, what manner of love!" 
"Mother," he said, "you need not rub my feet any 
more. They were cold, but they are all warm now. 
O, such love ! He is taking me into His everlasting 
Kingdom. I have hoped for this, and now my hope is 
fulfilled. I hoped in His mercy and in His judgments, 
— in His judgments ; I hoped in His atonement ; I 
hoped in His death and in His glorious resurrection; 
and now it is all true." Then he gave expression to a 
kind of prayer, or psalm of praise, most sublime ; but we 
cannot remember it, nor can we remember half that 
he said. As he lay back again he said faintly, "When 
Ephraim spake tremblingly he exalted himself in 
Israel ;" then he seemed to pass into the silence of 
death again. But again, and three times, he raised 
himself thus, with renewed bursts of praise, speaking 
rapidly and clearly as he sat up. Once he said, "Let 
me get up and sit in a chair and tell it ;" and I raised 
him to stand for an instant on the floor, but there 
seemed no strength in his limbs and we laid him down 
again. He whispered as he was laid down, "You 
ought to have let me do it," and went into apparent 
unconsciousness again. 

62 



All this time he seemed to be almost lost to 
earthly things, and, although he spoke our names a.> 
his eye would rest on one of us, yet he did not seem 
to regard us so much as members of an earthly family, 
sorrowing and mourning for him, but as brethren in 
Christ, rejoicing and praising with him. And this 
word, brethren, he repeated many times as he talked, 
as though he felt himself surrounded by the General 
Assembly and Church of the Firstborn, whom he was 
addressing. He repeated many portions of scripture 
and dwelt upon them. He said once, very slowly and 
with great distinctness : ''Adorning the doctrine of 
God our Saviour. O, brethren, let us do it. Let us 
adorn the doctrine in our lives and conversation." 

The fourth and last time he raised himself up 
was after a long interval of silence, and we thought 
surely we would hear no more. As he raised himself 
he said, "O, I must praise Him if I do exert myself 
too much." Then turning to me he said, "Why, Silas, 
I praise Him because I cannot help it ; His love is so 
wonderful ; and it is not for a day, or for a year, but 
for ever and ever, world without end." And as he 
said this there was such a glow of perfect rapture on 
his face as no words can express. Then followed some 
sublime strains of poetry, new to us, and seeming to 
come as new from him. Then he said, "Can't you 
all go with me where I am going?" Nine of us stood 
around the bed now, all members of the church, and 
to each he had seemed to address some word, and to 
all of us seemed to be trying to tell the wonders he 
was seeing. "But," he said, "I can't tell it. Read the 
one hundred and fourteenth Psalm." "The four- 
teenth?" was asked by Rosina, the youngest of the 
family, for he spoke indistinctly. Then very forcibly, 

63 



"The hundred and fourteenth. It is all there. Jordan 
is driven back! I shall faint or go in a minute." 

We laid him back tenderly on the pillow. There 
was no movement any more, except the softest 
breathing as of an infant for a short time. His face 
was perfectly serene, with no sign of pain or trouble, 
but a kind of heavenly radiance overspreading it, 
while his eyes, from underneath their half closed lids, 
seemed fixed, with the solemn light of a holy and 
eternal joy shining in them, upon the far-off, infinite 
glories of heaven, as though they saw then the King 
in His beauty, and beheld the land that is very far 
off. As he lay thus, his head resting high on the 
pillows, he who had always been so feeble physically 
in life, looked strong in death, like a conqueror ; and 
as I read aloud the words of that wonderful Psalm, 
we knew what it was he would have told ; how death 
had been conquered ; how the waves, which had 
surged so high, threatening to overwhelm him, had 
fled at the approach of one whose trust was in the 
Lord ; how the swelling tides of Jordan had been 
driven back, so that he who had hoped in the Lord, 
though so tremblingly, might 

"Pass the river telling 
The triumphs of his King." 

Our mourning was turned into joy, and our 
lamentations into songs of praise and thanksgiving. 

It seemed a special favor of the Father of mercies 
to us, and to the brethren, that he should thus have 
been made to pause on the threshold of glory, and 
leave so wonderful an evidence that the weakest hope, 
if it rest only upon Christ, is sure and cannot fail. We 
had followed him in the trials of his experience; we 

64 



had known how entirely his hope rested upon the 
Word ; how often he had been troubled that he had 
not such bright and vivid experiences as others had ; 
how much he feared, at times, that his was not a 
g-enuine repentance and faith ; yet how he could not 
but trust in the Lord, for there was no one else to 
trust in, and nothing else for him ; and how he still 
must believe, in spite of temptations to doubt, that the 
peace he sometimes experienced was the peace of God. 
We had known how precious the Scriptures were to 
him, because it was there alone, instead of in himself, 
that he found the confirmation of his hope ; how its 
promises were clasped to his heart and treasured up : 
and how s^lorious the doctrine of the Bible seemed 
to him. We had known how he felt that his were 
the feeblest evidences upon which ever a child rested 
his hope. And now we, who had only the same trem- 
bling hope, saw it brighten in him, as heart and flesh 
failed, till it was lost in sight, and the glory he had 
longed and prayed for was revealed to him in our 
presence. Why should we doubt any more? O, how 
trifling the earth seemed ; how glorious the hope of 
immortality! He had spoken no word about dying, 
nor had he bidden us ''Good-bye," but the manner of 
his going, and his expressions of praise and joy, lifted 
us for a time above the region of sorrow. 

Once, I remember now, there seemed a little con- 
sciousness of the sorrow^ he was leaving with us, as 
he said, in a more languid and dreamy voice, "And 
our pleasant home will be a little weary, but it will 
not be for long." And turning to Sister Bessie, he 
said, "Bessie, come home as soon as you can." He 
had always had a childlike fondness for home, and, 
though many of his years were spent away, he would 

65 



never give the name, home, to any other than that of 
his childhood. He had been in perils and seemingly 
at the point of death when far from here, and many 
anxious thoughts had gone out to him. It was a 
privilege hardly to have been expected that he should 
be at home when he came to lie down at the last, and 
that our father and mother, and all the living brothers 
and sisters, should stand about his bed. The winter 
was past, and the night was gone. The morning sun 
of a lovely spring day was shining in at his window as 
he left us for his home in glory. We could not tell 
when his breathing ceased, so softly and quietly he 
passed away. 

The closing lines of the last poem he wrote 
appears as though he foresaw the close of his own 
life when he wrote them. 

The silent, shadowy hours move onward slowly, 
But a sweet sense of joy abides with me; 

One thought alone makes the night watches holy 
The blessed thought that I am still with Thee. 

And morning cometh ! soon these watchings ended, 
Soon all these earthly nights and vigils o'er. 

On the freed soul shall break the radiance splendid 
Of perfect day upon the sinless shore. 

O, there shall be no more of restless sighing. 
No more of sorrow and of blighting care ; 

For in that glorious home of bliss undying. 
No shadow falleth, and no night is there. 

Wrapped in such thoughts, peace floweth like a river, 
Filling with voiceless songs the silence deep ; 

Songs holy as the Angels sing forever; 
And thus thou givest Thy beloved sleep. 
66 



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